Feverish
by Fletset
Summary: When Nowaki takes a sick Misaki to his and Hiroki's home, the foundations of everything Misaki thought he knew begin to crumble. Romantica and Egoist.
1. Meeting

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Junjou Romantica, I'm writing this story just for fun and am not making any profit out of it.

**Author's Note I: **I think I'm taking a bit of a risk with this story. Hopefully you'll like it…

Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue.

* * *

**Feverish**

_Chapter One: Meeting_

Misaki sighed heavily as he trudged down the busy street, dragging his feet tiredly on the sidewalk. People went past him, hurrying to their respective destinations, and he wasn't sure if he knew where _he_ was going. All he knew was that he had the worst day ever known to the human race. He remembered thinking, when he was on the train with some friends, how all the people complaining on bad days could not amount to whatever happened to him. His bad day actually started the day before, he decided as he went past a ramen shop, the smells making him nauseous somewhat. Yesterday he went to a study group in preparation for the exam he had that morning. On the way back, however, he was caught in a heavy rain, without an umbrella, and was soaked to the bone as he got home.

That, of course, rewarded him with a high fever the following morning. That is how he went to the exam, feverish and disoriented, which in turn will probably make his final score lower than it should have been. Just as he was about to return home and have a good rest, his friends dragged him for a few drinks on the other side of the city in celebration of the end of midterms. He tried to refuse, he really did, but Misaki was never good with voicing his opinions. He managed to get away halfway through the party, his drunken friends not really noticing his disappearance, and thus was now looking for the way back to the train station.

He wished Usagi-san was there. He could have called him maybe, and the author would have come to pick him up. But the older man was currently touring Japan in a promotion campaign for his newest book. He tried to drag Misaki along too, of course, but the younger man refused vehemently, saying he had exams to study for and his work to go to. Usagi-san would be gone for about a month. That makes it… three and half weeks more.

Misaki sighed again. His head hurt and it became harder and harder to breathe as he kept on walking. He thought that the train station was about three blocks more, but as he kept on walking he began to doubt it. No, no way he'd find the train station… a day that started bad must end bad, as well. With that in mind he was about to cross the street, but he miscalculated his weight, height and the distance between the sidewalk and the road below, and as he put his left foot down it twisted painfully. He yelped in pain and sat down slowly, the pain numbing him for a second, causing his already unfocused green eyes to see stars. He breathed heavily, the memory of falling off the Usamis' window flashing through his mind momentarily, and he realized that due to that incident his foot must be a bit more sensitive. He held the painful spot, gritting his teeth. The people around him kept on coming and going, not paying him any heed.

Miskai tried to rise to his feet, but could barely straighten himself up before his nerve system cried out, and he had to sit down on the sidewalk again. He figured he'd have to stay like that for a few hours more, maybe find a bench and sit on it until he'd be able to catch a cab, when suddenly a pair of strong arms snaked under his armpits and pulled him up. For a second there Misaki thought it was Usagi-san, but immediately he remembered he was alone, and his heart clenched in his chest painfully at that realization. "Are you alright?" a pleasant voice asked.

"Y-yeah," Misaki managed to stutter and tried to wriggle himself free of the man's grip, but the arms tightened around him and pulled him to the safety of the bench in front of the Kinokuniya he passed earlier. Misaki breathed in relief as he sat down and closed his eyes, trying to focus on something else besides the pain.

"Did you twist your foot?" The man asked him.

Misaki barely nodded, his eyes still closed, and soon after the stranger's hands circled his painful ankle. He tried to withdraw his leg, but again the grip tightened and he cried out.

"Can you move it?" the man asked.

"Just barely," Misaki replied. "I tried to stand up earlier but couldn't…" Misaki opened his eyes and looked down at the kneeling man. All he could see was black hair. When he looked back up, his landlord's new book greeted his sight from the display window of the bookstore, and he bit his lip in frustration, feeling the loneliest he'd ever felt in a long time.

"It's not broken then, I'm glad," the man said and looked up at him, smiling tenderly. Misaki gasped in surprise when he looked back down; the man had blue eyes, kind of like Usagi-san's, only a bit darker. "Though it could be twisted pretty bad… what do you say?"

"I really don't know," Misaki said quietly. "Look, sir, thank you for helping me, but I think I can manage from here. I'll just rest here for a second and then I'll get home."

"Where do you live?" The man asked him, standing up and dusting his knees.

Misaki shifted uncomfortably in his sit, wondering if perhaps he was dealing with a stalker. "Just… Sumida…" he said, knowing that saying the exact neighborhood may not be the safest thing. Usagi-san always told him to be careful, and as more and more people came to claim him, Misaki figured that maybe he should.

The man's eyes widened somewhat. "Sumida? That's on the other side of the city! How will you get there?"

"A taxi or… I don't know," Misaki said, then slowly rose to his feet. He balanced himself on his right leg when a wave of dizziness washed over him and he fell back down tiredly with his eyes closed, his hand searching frantically for something to hold unto as he felt himself falling. His searching hands came in contact with the edge of the bench and he gripped it tightly, scared to let go in fear he might fall down. A short moment later Misaki opened his eyes again, only to see the stranger looking at him worriedly.

"I apologize," the man said, and before Misaki could utter another word an unfamiliar hand touched his forehead gently. "You're burning up!" the man said, his eyes wide. For a brief moment Misaki wondered in the man's hands were really that warm, or was it his fever that caused them to be so.

"Y-yeah…" Misaki replied, somewhat weakly. "Look, all I need is a nice nap, then I'm sure I'll get better…" he stood up again, balanced himself once more on his right foot, and ignoring his dizziness he managed to take a few limping steps towards the road before he could not go on and fell. Two strong arms caught him before he hit the ground, and when Misaki looked up he saw the man practically glaring at him.

"As a doctor, I cannot allow you to go all the way to Sumida by yourself, you're in no condition to walk even a short few steps! Is there anyone waiting for you at home?" Through his haze Misaki admitted that no, he was by himself for the next three weeks, and immediately after scolded himself for telling the truth. Now that man was sure not to let him go. "Look," the man said, helping him up and again smiling kindly down at him. That was the first time Misaki noticed how tall the man was. In fact, the only time he saw someone this tall was… his eyes widened a bit in realization. That was the man who helped him on the train all those months ago.

"You're…" Misaki started, but as the man merely blinked stupidly at him Misaki realized he probably didn't remember.

"I live just around the corner. I'll help you walk. I promise I'm no one suspicious. You'll regain your strength and then I'll even pay for the taxi fee." Despite the kind smile, the hypnotizing eyes that resembled Usagi-san's, and the fact that the man was no longer a total stranger, Misaki thought that following him to his house may not be the best idea. He was about to voice his protest again when another wave of dizziness, the worst one yet, washed over him. He breathed heavily and held the man's shirt in a death grip, feeling like he was falling. He wanted to cry out for help and opened his eyes in fear, but before he could utter any sound the world around him merged into a single, black color. The last thing Misaki was aware of before he lost his conscious was that the man who held him cried out for him in alarm, but Misaki was no longer able to reply.

* * *

When Misaki opened his eyes he wasn't sure where he was. He blinked slowly, his surroundings coming in and out of focus, and when he finally regained his senses he sat up quickly in the bed he was lying on, a stunt which awarded him with an intense headache. He held his temples and groaned, breathing slowly. When the horrible poundings in his head stopped he was finally able to look around. He was in what looked like a western room; a western bed, a desk in the corner, and a blue curtain on the window which allowed the last rays of sunlight into the room. The clock on the wall told him it was nearing evening. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and he wasn't quite sure where he was and why, when the events of earlier that day slowly returned to him. He calmed down somewhat, realizing that the man probably took him to his house.

Misaki kept on sitting like that for a little while longer until the sun set completely and left him in the gradually darkening room. Misaki was lost in his somewhat pessimistic thoughts when the door opened. He jumped slightly, but this time he did not calm down even when he saw the man from earlier smiling kindly at him.

"You're awake," the man said, approaching him. "I'm glad."

"Where am I?" Misaki asked, trying to make his voice sound demanding, but all he managed was a pathetic squeak.

"My apartment. I took you here after you fainted on the street," the man explained, putting his hand on Misaki's forehead, much to the latter's dismay. "Ah, your fever went down a bit, but not enough, I'm afraid… I forced some medicine into you," Misaki paled, "I hope you don't mind."

"H-how?" The younger man asked, but the man merely smiled mysteriously in reply. "Why didn't you take me to the hospital?"

The man chuckled. "I'm a pediatrician. Or at least, a student. There's no need to rush to the hospital over every little thing. I know what I'm doing, you just need to rest well a few days and then I'm sure you'll get better. I advise you not to move that much, as well, your leg is hurt pretty bad…" Misaki blinked, and the man's eyes widened somewhat. "Oh, I apologize. I looked at your injury while you were out, I wanted to make sure it was nothing serious…"

"Can you take me home?" Misaki asked, almost pleading.

The man looked down sadly at him. "I'm afraid that as a doctor I cannot do so. First, I have no car, and second, back on the street you said you're home alone. You're far from healthy and you need to be watched over." The phone rung from the other room, and the man excused himself hurriedly and went to pick it up.

Misaki felt weird. On the one hand he wanted to trust the man, who seemed trustful enough, but on the other… nothing good came out whenever he went with someone to their house, and he was afraid that this time it would be the same. He looked around once more, and was relieved to see his cell-phone next to him. He opened it quickly, intending to call someone, anyone, that would be able to help him get home when to his great dismay he found out that he had no battery left. He sighed heavily. A bad day indeed…

The man returned, carrying a bowl filled with water and a handkerchief. "Please lie down," he asked. "I'll put this on your forehead, it'll help your fever."

"I don't like this," Misaki said quietly. "Why do you want me here so bad?"

"I told you," the man said. "You're in no condition to be left by yourself." Then the man saw his cell-phone. "Oh, is that yours?" he asked. "Would you like to call someone and let them know you're here?"

"I have no battery left," Misaki said bitterly. "And I don't remember any number by heart…"

The man's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, my cell is of another brand, the charger won't fit…"

Misaki chuckled. "No, that's alright… it's… all of this is my fault, really," he felt so pathetic and vulnerable when he said those words that it almost brought tears to his eyes, but he held them back, vowing not to show any weakness.

"That's okay," the man said. "We all have days like that. Just don't let that worry you too much and rest as you should. I'm going to make some dinner for you, alright?" Misaki half nodded, half shook his head, and the man smiled in return and left to the kitchen.

To the clatter of pots and pans Misaki tried to get out of bed, intending to sneak out somehow, when all he could do was walk two steps forward before he fell. He cried out, his left leg protesting at any movement.

The man, of course, rushed back in, a worried look in his eyes. "Please, get back to bed!" he requested, or demanded, pulling Misaki up and leading his backwards. "I told you you're in no condition to move, why can't you believe me?"

The tears Misaki held back before slid down his cheeks now and he shivered against the man's touch. As he was tucked back in bed the man looked down sadly at him again. "I'm sorry it has to be like this… would it help if I told you my name?" he asked. Misaki made no reply, trying and failing to stop the tears he did not know why were falling and the shivers, which only worsened by the second. "I'm Nowaki," the man said, his long fingers brushing Misaki's hair in a soothing manner for a short moment, calming him down. "Kusama Nowaki."

Misaki's last thought before he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless and painful sleep was that "Nowaki" was the strangest name he ever heard.

_To Be Continued…_

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**Author's Note II: **Woohoo! More Nowaki/Misaki interaction~

I'm not sure where I'm going with this yet, and hopefully updates won't take too long. I'd appreciate your opinion, so please leave a review before you leave!

_Kinokuniya_ _- _kind of like the Japanese "Borders".


	2. Talking

**Disclaimer: **See previous chapter.

**Author's Note I: **Here's the second chapter. I'm sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes, English is still not my native tongue and I still don't have a beta.

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**Feverish**

_Chapter Two: Talking_

Misaki stirred in his sleep, frowning. His breathing became heavy and he coughed violently, the shake of his lungs causing him to wake up. He tried to breathe in deeply in order to calm down, but it didn't help. He felt the dinner he ate a few hours before going up his esophagus, and with no time to think he crawled to the side of the bed and threw up on the floor, his fever dizzying him. His hands searched around him for the familiar warmth of Usagi-san, but met only with a cold wall on one side and stuffed air on the other. He started choking on words he tried to say, whatever sounds that did manage to leave his mouth sounding incoherent and jumbled.

He heard muffled sounds around him and panicked. What was going on? Why wasn't Usagi-san there?

He thrashed around violently and stopped abruptly once a sharp pain shot up from his leg and he yelped. Someone held his shoulders in a death grip. Misaki tried to shake them off, but failed. More muffled talking sounded around him, and he felt something wet and hot slide down his cheeks. He started wheezing, still trying to fight against whoever held him while trying to ignore the pain in his left leg. What was going on?

Something metallic and cold came in touch with his lips, and Misaki shut them tight, refusing to allow whoever attacked him any access to his insides. He turned his head to the right and then to the left, the metallic thing following his movements. In an act of desperation he lifted his hand and smacked it away, his movement jerky. He was relieved when he heard the metallic object clatter on the floor. His relief was only momentarily, though, because moments later somebody forced his mouth open, long fingers pressing against his chin, and a short second later he felt warm lips on his own. His hand shot up automatically and his fingers came in contact with a broad shoulder. He sighed into the mouth that met his own, his eyes closing and his fingernails digging into the skin of his kisser.

_Usagi-san…_

A bitter liquid followed, and he swallowed by instinct, the lips leaving him once there was no drop left.

There were some more muffled talking around him, and through his panicked breaths and clammy skin Misaki could feel a big hand running through his hair. He calmed down slowly, his eyes opening. The room was too dark and his eyes were too unfocused for him to see anything. He tried to say something, to tell Usagi-san to stay by his side, but his words sounded foreign even to his own ears. He sighed heavily, his head sinking deeper into the pillow as his eyes closed, and soon he was engulfed by dreams again.

* * *

"-there was nothing else I could do, I couldn't just leave him there…"

"He has a home, why did you bring him here?"

"He's home alone, Hiro-san, you saw for yourself how he acted last night, just imagine what would have happened if we weren't there!"

Misaki's eyes opened slowly, his brain registering the conversation that was going on in another room. He blinked slowly, taking a moment to remember his position. His mouth felt bitter and dry, his sheets were crumpled beneath him, and his head pounded as if he emptied two bottles of strong liquor just the day before. He groaned.

"Don't even mention last night."

"Hiro-san! I had no choice!"

"You could have called an ambulance!"

"The paramedics would have done the same! I'm perfectly capable of handling the situation myself, you saw it with your own eyes!"

Misaki could feel a dull pain in his leg. He touched the sore spot, and was surprised to see it was no longer bandaged. A quick look around told him it didn't come off in his sleep, as the white material wasn't in his bed or on the floor.

"How long?"

"Until he gets better, I already told you that…"

A short silence followed. Misaki recognized one of the voices as Kusama-san's, and only then did he realize that they were talking about him.

"Hiro-san, if you're worried that because he's here we won't be able to have s-"

"Shut up! It's not what I'm worried about! I just don't like strangers in my house."

"Please, have a little compassion, Hiro-san. He's very sick…"

"Whatever, I'm going to see if there's anything valuable in that room that I should hide."

"Hiro-san!"

Misaki heard a chair being pulled backwards, wooden legs scraping against the floor. Then he heard footsteps approaching, and soon enough the door to his temporary room opened. Misaki blushed slightly and looked away in shame, knowing what the man came for.

"Good morning, kid," the man said, though to Misaki's ears it sounded more like a grunt.

"Ah!" A cheerful voice said from the door. Misaki looked up and was relieved to see Kusama-san standing there, a smile adorning his face. "I see you're awake. How are you feeling today?" Misaki nodded slowly, not sure how he was supposed to reply. Kusama-san came to his side and felt his forehead. "Still high, but less then last night," he commented, his hand moving to caress stray strands of hair on Misaki'is sweaty forehead.

A cough sounded from the direction of the drawers, and the hand left. "I'm sorry," Kusama-san said. Misaki wasn't sure who he was referring to. "There's a pill I want you to take, alright? It'll help your fever."

Misaki nodded again. "M-my leg…" he said quietly, still refusing to look directly at the black-haired man.

Kusama-san blinked at him. "Your leg? Does it hurt?"

Misaki shifted uncomfortably under the foreign gaze. "No, I mean… less but… where's the bandage?"

"Ah, I removed it last night. You were hurting so bad, I figured I should probably relieve the pressure."

"Hey, kid," both men turned to look at the man near the drawers. "There are some very valuable books here, I don't want you near them."

Kusama-san frowned. "Hiro-san, stop that. And don't call him 'kid' either, I'm sure he has a name-" then his blue eyes widened in realization, and he looked down at Misaki, his smile shy and embarrassed. "Oh, I am so deeply sorry. I forgot to ask for your name?"

"It's Misaki. Takahashi Misaki," he replied, finding the smile contagious.

"Misaki-kun, you seem young. Are you a student?" Kusama-san asked him, smiling gently.

"Yeah, an Economics student…"

"Really? That's sounds great, in which university?"

"Mi-Mitsuhashi…"

Kusama-san's eyes brightened, and from the corner of his eye Misaki could see the other man in the room stiffen. "Mitsuhashi!" Kusama-san exclaimed, sounding proud. "That's where Hiro-san teaches, but he's in the Literature department… oh, I'm sorry, I'm being rude again. This man here, he's Kamijou Hiroki-," Misaki's eyes widened, "-we live together and we're-"

"Nowaki!" Hiroki reprimanded, his back still turned to them.

Nowaki blushed. "Right, right, I'm sorry… would you like something to eat, Misaki-kun?"

Misaki shook his head. "No, I'm fine." The words were forced out of him as the realization hit him. He was in the same room with that wretched teacher, Kamijou-the-devil, the same man who was responsible for many blue marks on his forehead.

Kusama-san frowned at him. "Oh, I insist. I'll make something light, I'll be right back." He turned on his heels and left.

Kamijou-sensei was still in the room, checking the drawers, and Misaki could feel his discomfort growing. "Did you ever take any course in the Literature department, Takahashi-kun?" Misaki jumped slightly, startled, as he figured the man would not initiate a conversation with him. Kmaijou-sensei turned to look at him, frowning deeply.

"Uh, yeah… your course, actually..." to this day he had no idea why he chose it. But in his attempt to get closer to Usagi-san he failed to ask his fellow classmates about recommended teachers.

"Well then," Kamijou-san said, his tone concluding, balancing some of his belongings in his hands. "Hopefully that was the first and last time." He turned around and left.

Misaki looked down at his hands sadly, wondering what he did wrong. All of the people he met seemed to dislike him, and those that did like him only acted so because they were somehow after Usagi-san. Misaki sighed heavily as he thought about his landlord. Only now, when he was in some strange place did he really start to miss the man. He wished he could contact him somehow… Usagi-san will probably try to call him soon, and when there will be no answer he'll come rushing back home to look for him.

Misaki only hoped the author was too busy promoting his book that calling him was the last thing on his mind.

Before he could dwell more on the subject Kusama-san entered to room, smiling widely, carrying a tray in his hands. "There you go, Misaki-kun. I made you some porridge, please eat it so you'll regain your strength. There's a pill for you to swallow once you finish, too." Kusama-san put the tray on the small counter next to his bed. "I'm going to the supermarket now, but Hiro-san is still here. I know he seems unkind, but he's a good person. Please tell him if there's anything wrong, and he'll contact me immediately, alright?" Misaki nodded, figuring there wasn't much else he could do. Kusama-san smiled kindly at him, patted his head, and left.

Those hands… they felt like Usagi-san's. Misaki held his face, breathing in shakily. The porridge's scent wafted to his nose and his stomach reminded him he had nothing to eat for long time. He took the porridge and started eating it slowly, thinking that at least Kusama-san's cooking skills were good. Indeed, if it were Usagi-san, Misaki would probably end up sicker.

* * *

Misaki woke up later that day. The clock on the wall told him it was late afternoon, and he watched with tired eyes as the rays of the setting sun danced on the wall. The house was quiet, and Misaki wondered if perhaps the two men left for work. He wondered briefly if they were brothers, refusing to think they were lovers. No, there's no way would he acknowledge the fact that all the people he met were homosexuals. His bladder told him it needed release. Misaki sighed, sat up slowly and put his feet on the cold floor. He stood up slowly, balancing himself on his right foot, and jumped towards the exit, noticing that his leg had been bandaged once again.

The house was big, he concluded. In his hurried search he found a bedroom, a closet, and the living room. The toilet was behind the last door he opened.

When Misaki stepped out he felt drained. His fever weakened him, and the jumping didn't help. He sat on the couch in the living room, his head resting against the warm cushions. He barely had any strength left to lift himself up and jump to the guestroom he'd been offered. His green eyes noticed the huge bookshelf next to him, which was loaded with books. He gaped, realizing there were probably ten times more books than in their house.

Then he saw them. On the upper shelves, books by Usami Akihiko, three copies of each title. He frowned deeply, hoping Kusama-san didn't know he was living with the man and only took care of him as means to get closer to his landlord.

The sun set completely, leaving him in the dark. His eyes drooped as he neared sleep when suddenly the front door opened and a florescent light illuminated the room. Green eyes met frowning brown, and Misaki blushed.

Hiroki huffed, took down his scarf and threw it on a chair. "How are you feeling, Takahashi-kun?" he asked.

"Ah, good, thank you," he replied.

Kamijou-sensei looked suspiciously at him. "You look feverish to me. When was the last time you took your medicine?"

"In the morning…" came the weak answer.

"Then you should take it again. I think Nowaki left it around here somewhere…"

Misaki sat in silence as he watched the other man searching through the many cupboards in the kitchen, wondering if he had a change of heart. Otherwise, why would Kamijou-the-Devil be nice to him? "Nowaki won't be back by tomorrow, so you're stuck with me until then," the man said, and Misaki found it hard to tell if he was talking to him or just in general.

"I'm sorry if I'm being a burden…" Misaki said slowly, looking down at his feet. Kamijou-sensei didn't reply, and Misaki shifted in his seat in discomfort.

"Here," Misaki looked up and saw a hand with a pack of pills being handed to him. He took it in silence. "I'm afraid I'm not a good cook like Nowaki, but please bear with me. Would you like anything in particular?" he asked as he walked back to the kitchen.

"No…"

"Do you want me to help you get back to bed?"

Misaki shook his head and could feel the man frowning from behind him. "Alright then…" he said quietly. "Oh, right, I forgot. Nowaki told me to ask you if you have anywhere you need us to call, like a workplace or something…"

Misaki's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, the coffee-shop where I work… I probably need to call in sick." A portable phone was handed to him quickly.

"What about your family?" Kamijou-sensei asked, looking at him quizzically.

Misaki sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, I can't recall any number… do you have a charger for Sharp, by any chance?"

Kamijou-sensei nodded. "Yeah, do you need one?"

Misaki brightened. "Yes, please! My battery died and I…"

Kmaijou-sensei nodded, disappeared for a short moment and then reappeared with the requested item. Misaki took it gratefully. "You need your cell too, don't you?" Misaki blushed in realization. The man sighed and went to the guestroom, returning only seconds later. Misaki thanked him quickly, plugged in the charger and felt a wave of relief washing over him as his phone came back to life. A few text messages from his friends, wondering how he was feeling, a message from Aikawa-san, some kind of complaint, a message from a co-worker…

He called the coffee-shop first, apologizing repetitively as the sounds of dinner being prepared sounded in the background. His boss told him to feel better, but warned he's not responsible for anything if it'd take more than a week.

Now… for the most awaited call.

Misaki felt his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for his landlord to pick up. He was about to hang up at some point when the deep, familiar voice boomed from the other side. "Misaki!" he said.

"Usagi-san," Misaki said back, feeling tears in his eyes just at the sound of the voice. He was already so engrossed in the conversation he didn't hear a glass from behind him falling down and breaking. "How are you?"

"I love you," was the reply.

Misaki blushed deeply. "That wasn't my question…"

"I don't care. How are you feeling? You sound a bit hoarse…"

Misaki wanted to tell him he was sick, wanted to say his leg hurt like hell and that he was in some strange house with another Usami-fan, but for some reason all he managed to say was "oh, yeah, I went to a karaoke with some friends last night…" he trailed off as he realized he was lying.

"I miss you."

"Don't worry, Usagi-san, it's just a few more weeks, I'm doing fine, really…"

"I wish you were here, then we could do things like-"

Misaki's blush deepened. "Usagi-san!" Some yelling sounded in the background.

"Ah, I'm sorry Misaki, I have to go, some stupid interview is supposed to start. I'll call you later."

Misaki nodded, even though he knew his landlord could not see. "Yeah, sure…"

One last 'I love you' was uttered quickly before the line was cut. Misaki pressed the 'end' button and stared at his phone which displayed the length of the conversation. He sighed deeply. He would never admit it, but he didn't want it to ever end. He never thought he'd miss Usagi-san so much.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized someone had been staring at him for a long time. He turned his head slowly and saw Kamijou-snsei looking at him, his eyes wide, holding a spoon in his right hand and ignoring an overflowing pot on the stove.

Misaki paled.

"You…" Kamijou-sensei started, his voice weak. "Usagi-san…" he chuckled. "There's only one person in the entire world I know by that name…" he shook his head, as if disbelieving. "And there's only one person… of course..." Kamijou-sensei held his head in his left hand, shaking. "Takahashi Misaki." Kamijou-sensei looked up again, an emotion Misaki could not identify flashing momentarily through his brown eyes. "I don't know why I didn't see the connection before," he said, his voice low. "You're Takahiro's brother."

_To Be Continued…_

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**Author's Note II: **I hope it didn't suck too much. Please leave a review if you like this story!

By the way, it won't stay Misaki's POV forever...


	3. Fighting

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter.

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure if anyone is still following this, seeing as it's been over a year since I last updated. You should thank **crsg** for this update, as she supplied me with the motivation to reread what was up and realize it was not bad. I already had most of the third chapter done, so I decided to continue it. Not much of a compensation, and I still don't know if this will be updated regularly as I don't read the manga anymore, but… it's still something, I guess. Enjoy!

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**Feverish**

_Chapter Three: Fighting_

Hiroki stood there for a long while, dumbfounded. Misaki stared at him, still gripping his cell-phone, his eyes wide. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall as it signaled it was nearing eight in the evening. Hiroki blinked a few times, then, noticing the overflowing pot, regained his composure and turned down the fire, lifted the lid and watched as the bubbles died down. He frowned, deciding to give up the miso soup and settle for some rice.

"D-do you…" Misaki was the first to find his voice. "Do you know my brother?"

Oh, does he? It was amazing how the mere mention of the name made his mind reel with old memories about painful days. When all of his classmates spent their high school years doing what normal high schoolers do, he spent them watching his best friend from afar, sinking deeper and deeper into his unrequited love and watching as said love did the same. That painful triangle which engulfed them, sometimes choked them, never relenting… he shuddered, his heart sinking. No, he certainly did not like to remember those times.

"Yeah," he replied finally, voice somewhat cracking, causing his frown to deepen. "We… we were together in high-school…"

That seemed to brighten the teen who sat in front of him on the couch. "Eh…" he said in wonder. "Well then, that must mean you were in the same class as Usagi- er, I mean, Usami-san."

Hiroki huffed and turned to tend the rice cooker. "You can use that silly pet name," he said, tone angrier than he meant it to be. "I don't mind, really. He's no stranger."

"Were you friends?" Misaki asked him as Hiroki filled two bowls with rice.

Hiroki nodded. "Yeah, Akihiko was my friend since we were kids."

Misaki smiled widely at him, apparently greatly impressed. "That's cool!" he said. "I've never really thought Usagi-san had friends besides my brother…. Ah, Sebastian-san mentioned something once, were you that childhood friend that visited his house often?"

Hiroki blinked as he set the table. "Who's Sebastian-san?" he asked, choosing to lock his eyes on the plates rather than on the young man who sat on the couch.

Misaki blushed. "Ah, I mean Tanaka-san, their butler," he clarified.

"You like using nicknames, don't you?" Hiroki said, choosing to ignore the question.

Misaki's blushed deepened. "I don't really… I'm just…"

"Do you need some help getting to the table?" Hiroki asked, cutting him off, patience disappearing. Misaki did not reply. Hiroki sighed heavily, approached him, and without any permission helped him rise to his feet, then supported him as he half limped, half jumped all the way to the dining table.

"Was Usagi-san different when he was a kid?" Misaki asked as he put some pickles on his rice and ate, not noticing Hiroki's discomfort.

Hiroki huffed, chewing a bite slowly. "Not really," he replied.

"People I meet who know him… they always say how I must have it hard living with him because-" Misaki quickly shot his hand to his mouth, paling, eyes wide.

Hiroki stared back, tightening his hold on his chopsticks. "Y-you live with him?" he breathed.

"Well, My brother… he was transferred to Osaka, and Usagi-san was my tutor, so I… I live with him, I do the chores and th-this is how I pay my rent, but that doesn't mean anything, we aren't really-"

"Spare me the explanations, Misaki-_kun_," Hiroki spat, glaring, then kept on eating. "You don't expect me to believe these excuses, do you? I've known Akihiko long enough to know what he's thinking."

Misaki looked down, flustered. He sighed, looked away, and ate what was left in his bowl silently. Not another word was uttered among them for the rest of the night.

* * *

When Nowaki came back from his night shift at the hospital he did not expect to see Hiroki sitting on the couch, a deep frown adorning his face, which was held in the hand he was leaning on. "Hiro-san?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "Why aren't you sleeping? It's still quite early."

"Couldn't sleep," was Hiro-san's curt reply as he lifted the remote and changed the channel to watch the forecast.

Nowaki brightened and sat next to him. "Ah, Hiro-san couldn't sleep because I wasn't there, I'm so moved!" he cried, hugging his boyfriend. When he met with no resistance he blinked in surprise once more and took a long look at the brown haired assistant professor. The only indication that he heard what his counterpart said was the faint blush that rose to his cheeks, but other than that it did not seem like he acknowledged Nowaki's presence. "Is something wrong, Hiro-san?" he asked quietly. "You seem a bit off…"

"Everything's fine," Hiro-san replied. "You want me to make breakfast?" he asked, but it seemed as if he did not expect any answer as he rose to his feet and went to the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out some needed ingredients.

Nowaki sighed heavily, figuring he should check on their guest for the time being.

The guestroom was dark when Nowaki entered, the only light coming from the slightly open door. Takahashi-kun was sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed, dreaming about whatever. Nowaki approached him slowly and felt the teen's forehead. The fever seemed to be down, but that usually what happens in mornings. He should check him in the evening, as well, just to make sure that the other night's attack was in no chances of returning.

Misaki seemed to feel him, as he opened his eyes groggily and looked up at him hopefully. "Ah, Kusama-san," he said weakly, sadness flashing momentarily through his tired eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Takahashi-kun," Nowaki replied, ignoring what he saw and smiling kindly down at him. "How are you feeling today?"

"A little bit better, thanks," Takahashi-kun answered, his eyes closing momentarily again before opening once more.

"How's you leg?" Nowaki asked and Takahashi-kun tried to move it, then his face contorted in pain. Nowaki frowned deeply. "Still not good, I see. Tell you what. If by tomorrow you're still pretty much unable to walk, I'll take you to the hospital." Takahashi-kun nodded quickly. Then Nowaki noticed something else and he crouched down in order to take a closer look at the teen. "Are you crying?" he asked quietly. Takahashi-kun shook his head vehemently, but that caused his tears to fall faster and a choked sob escaped his lips. "Why are you crying, Takahashi-kun? Are you in pain?" Nowaki asked worriedly.

"I just… I just don't feel well…" Takahashi-kun told him, his voice shaking slightly.

Nowaki smiled gently and caressed their guest's brown hair slowly. "You're sick, it's good that your body tells you there's something wrong."

"B-but I don't like it… being sick…" he said, voice shaking harder, hands trying to stop the tears with intense rubbing but failing.

"No one does, Takahashi-kun," Nowaki replied. "But don't worry, You'll get better soon."

"I-it's just…" he sniffled. "My parents… I was sick back then, too… I told them to hurry back, but it was raining… If only I weren't sick…"

Nowaki's face fell. Even with the jumbled words and shaking voice he could put two and two together and figure out what the young man was trying to tell him. He wondered briefly if Takahashi-kun would have confessed if he was feeling a bit better, or was the fever making him spill unnecessary words.

"You're very lucky to have had such caring parents, Takahashi-kun," Nowaki said with a sincere smile, leaving his hands in Misaki's hair, massaging his scalp slowly. "I never knew mine…" he added, voice so quiet it barely reached his own ears.

He couldn't tell if Takahashi-kun heard him, and for awhile he thought he didn't, until the boy in question's eyes turned to him, saddened. "Did they die when you were a baby?" he asked.

Nowaki chuckled and shook his head slowly, fingers drawing patterns on the teen's head. "I don't know. I don't think so. I was abandoned when I was a baby."

The boy's eyes seemed to sadden further, and Nowaki regretted telling him that piece of information.

"I'm sorry…" Takahashi-kun told him, voice quiet, and Nowaki was relieved to see that no more tears sprang to his green eyes.

"That's quite alright. You shouldn't be sorry, it's not your fault," he said, smiling tenderly at the younger man. He felt someone looking at him then, eyes burning into his back, and turned his head to see his Hiro-san leaning on the doorframe, glaring at them.

"Breakfast's ready," he declared coldly.

"Ah, of course," Nowaki said and straightened up, hand still in Takahashi-kun's hair. "Would you like anything, Takahashi-kun?" he asked, but before he could receive a reply, his lover supplied an answer.

"There were only two eggs, I'm afraid," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Then I'll make myself something else and give-" he was cut off when Hiroki punched the wall, eyes narrowing further. "Hi-Hiro-san?" Nowaki breathed, disbelieving.

"I'll buy him something to munch on later. Now you go and eat, Nowaki. You're probably tired." He finished, turned on his heels and stomped to the kitchen.

Nowaki looked down at an awkward Takahashi-kun and rewarded him with a last caress of hairs. "I'm sorry he's like that, Takahashi-kun," he said. "I'll make sure to talk to him."

"No," Takahashi-kun said quietly. "It's alright, I don't mind."

Nowaki laughed to himself. "Of course you do," he said. "I'll make something for you to eat later, okay? You should sleep some more." Takahashi-kun nodded and Nowaki flashed him one, last smile before disappearing into the kitchen, closing the guest-room door behind him.

"Hiro-san," he said as he sat at the set table, frowning. "What's gotten into you?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hiro-san said, but to Nowaki's ears it sounded more like a growl. And his eyes… he has never seen Hiro-san's eyes like that, burning with some negative emotion. There was the time when Tsumori-sempai stayed at their apartment, but even then his eyes weren't so… disapproving.

"Are you jealous, Hiro-san?" Nowaki asked, chewing on a salted tomato.

"No," Hiro-san replied, and Nowaki was disappointed to see that no blush rose to his cheeks.

"He's just a kid, Hiro-san, obviously, the only one I love is-"

"Quit spitting nonsense, Nowaki!" Hiro-san cried, lifting his eyes from the table-top in order to glare at him. Nowaki's eyes widened somewhat. "I'm not jealous of anyone, and I don't want this kid to stay here!"

Nowaki, fed up, glared back. "That's very unkind of you, Hiro-san!" he said. "He has nowhere else to go!"

"He has a home and he's a student! He's old enough to care for himself!" Hiro-san argued back.

"It's very discouraging to be left alone when sick, Hiro-san! You may not know it, but I do!" Nowaki cried, memories of his sick-days at the orphanage flashing through his mind. He remembered how somebody came up to check on him only twice a day, how his friends were ordered to keep a certain distance in order not to catch his disease, how even though nightmares about rainy nights and harsh winds tormented him no one seemed to notice…

Hiro-san apparently noticed his discomfort, because his eyes softened and he looked away. "I don't like his presence," he said quietly.

"Why?" Nowaki asked, leaning backwards in his chair.

Hiro-san did not answer. He looked down at his plate and pushed his food around, creating unrecognizable shapes and then breaking them. "Just make sure he gets better soon so he won't stay here too long," he said eventually, finally starting to eat.

Nowaki sighed heavily and began eating as well. "There's something you're hiding from me, Hiro-san, isn't there?" he asked.

Hiro-san shrugged. "Not really," he said, taking a bite of his egg.

Nowaki frowned. Usually he could read Hiro-san's thoughts easily, as his eyes and gestures made it obvious what went through his head. This time, however, it was like trying to break into a bunker while only having a map of its outer walls but not of its entrance. Hiro-san was mad, that was for sure. Nowaki was also quite positive that Hiro-san was jealous. But as for the reason for his behavior, Nowaki honestly did not have a clue.

"Sometimes I think you're underestimating me, Hiro-san," he said, half-glaring at his lover across the table. When Hiro-san made no move to reply and kept on eating slowly as if someone made him to, Nowaki continued. "You may think I'm still a stupid kid but I'm not. I know you're mad at something, apparently at Takahashi-kun-" Nowaki did not miss the flinch that followed him mentioning the name of their guest, "-but he has done nothing wrong. I already told you: I was on the way home when I saw him doubling over in pain on the street, and when he fainted in my hands - _in my hands,_ Hiro-san – I had no choice but to take him here." Hiro-san still did provide any reply, and Nowaki glared harder, punching the table lightly. "And I'm glad that I did! Just think of what would have happened to him had we not been there!"

Hiro-san looked away, and Nowaki thought his words were having some sort of an affect. Hiro-san chose to remain silent, however. Nowaki continued his monologue, hoping to get a second confession for the day. "I may not yet be a doctor, but I can still take care of him. Besides, it's not too severe, not something that the medications we have here cannot fix. Aside from that little delirium incident, he's been recovering well." Nowaki then realized he had nothing else to say, and chose to continue eating his now cold breakfast.

"His presence is unnerving," Hiro-san finally said, but did not elaborate.

"What do you mean?" The doctor-to-be asked him, now curious. Hiro-san was the jealous type, that to be sure, but Takahashi-kun was just a kid. He heard something about that professor in Hiro-san's office having some sort of an affair with a boy who could be his son, one night when his lover was rambling over a few empty cans of beer, but surely Hiro-san did not think of him like that.

But instead of supplying him with a decent answer, Hiro-san cleared his plate and washed it quickly. Nowaki waited, patient. "I have to go to work," Hiro-san said finally.

Nowaki stared at him in wonder. "It's not even eight…" he said.

"I need to Xerox some things before class." Hiro-san replied, went into their room and emerged outside a few minutes later, suited-up but still looking quite disoriented, which, Nowaki reasoned, is what he should have expected to see after his roommate said he could not sleep.

"Are you going to be alright?" Nowaki asked him after taking in his appearance.

Hiro-san half-nodded and opened the door. "I'll be late," he said. "Don't wait up."

Only after he could not hear his footsteps any longer did Nowaki realize with a sinking heart that the university was still on a break.

_To be continued(?)…._


	4. Doubting

**Disclaimer: **See first chapter.

**Author's note: **Although no one mentioned it, I wanted to make it clear that because I started working on this story in 2009, Misaki isn't working at Marukawa publishing. Also, I realized Nowaki has dark eyes in the manga, but in the anime his eyes are blue (which, if you ask me, makes it more interesting because Usagi-san's eyes are blue, too).

At any rate, here's the fourth chapter. It came out a bit longer than the rest, but I wasn't pleased with it and took out half for now. This is the result.

* * *

**Feverish**

Chapter Four: Doubting

Hiroki wasn't entirely sure where he was going. The early morning air was crisp and chill against his skin, but it did little to refresh him. His hands were buried deep in his pockets as he sunk lower into his green scarf, the one Nowaki bought for him almost a year ago after spotting it in a department store and immediately thinking that "it'll bring out his eye color in the most magnificent way." Hiroki huffed angrily to himself.

His legs carried him for a few blocks, and when he looked up he saw the local Starbucks. Deciding that a cup of coffee would only do him good, he found himself sitting at a side table near the window in no time, surrounded by various salary-men and office ladies, hurrying in and out, some opting to sit but most taking their orders with them on the trek to their respective offices. Hiroki imagined them sitting somewhere on the 30th floor of a skyscraper with big windows, stapling papers and typing away until evening came, and then they would shut down their computers and go to their boring homes and be with their boring families.

He frowned and took a sip of his cup, the warm liquid soothing his nerves somewhat. There was a time when he used to see himself as one of them, aiming for a stable future. But then he entered university and when the first four years ended he just felt like _it wasn't enough_, and he had to learn more, study more, and he had the greatest idea for a thesis and… a few years later he was an assistant professor in an office filled with books and cigarette smoke, and sometimes he still wondered, usually after he was doing that damned Miyagi's work, if a regular office job wouldn't have been better.

His eyes caught a young woman in a short skirt and long hair chatting into her cell-phone, a blush adorning her cheeks from a time to time, and his frowned deepened as he realized she was probably exchanging lovey-dovey confessions with her boyfriend.

Nowaki was like that, too, always declaring his endless love for him, wanting to do embarrassing stuff like bathing together or watching the fireworks together or… sleeping together, which, Hiroki had to admit, was embarrassing only because Nowaki was _Nowaki_ and he always made him feel so good without him having to say anything, always telling him how amazing he is even when Hiroki wasn't really _doing_ anything, which was the most annoying of all.

Telling him how cute he is.

Hiroki took a long sip of his coffee and sighed heavily. Cute… Takahashi-kun was cute, too, probably, seeing as Nowaki couldn't keep his hands away from his hair, and because he kissed him twice, _twice_, and no, being sick and helpless was no excuse. Damn that Takahashi kin, always getting in his way.

Although he wasn't pining for Akihiko anymore, he used to for so long that his feelings of helplessness and inferiority almost seemed like a part of him now as they did then. Always wondering what he was lacking in comparison to Takahiro, always trying to better himself, to make Akihiko see that Takahiro just _wasn't_ one of them, that his eyes always followed women and straight porn and that he himself was much, much better than that oblivious guy who was all smiles and far too obsessed with his little brother.

But it was no use. He tried to force his feeling unto Akihiko and failed miserably.

And then Nowaki came along and pulled him out of that dark pit of unrequited love and loneliness, smiling kindly at him and telling him that _he_ shall be loved from now on. That he shouldn't be the one always, always loving. That he could get something in return.

Then he disappeared for a year without a word and Hiroki was so lost he didn't know what to do with himself besides drowning himself with endless work, like all those salary-men who surrounded him now. But the lonely void in his chest only grew bigger until Nowaki suddenly reappeared out of nowhere, all smiles and obliviousness. It made Hiroki to want to forget, too. The anger and loneliness and tears and despair…

But those feelings didn't go anywhere. Always present ever since he first realized he was gay for his best friend - and said friend was also gay but certainly not for him, he realized in high school - lying dormant whenever Nowaki was there, hugging him and kissing him and burying himself in him, but resurfacing when he was having doubts. Like when Nowaki disappeared. Like whenever Tsumori showed up and claimed Nowaki as his own, just in spite.

Like now, when a Takahashi was lying in their guestroom, feverish and helpless and demanding of attention that Nowaki was as happy to give just as that Takahashi was happy to receive.

And Hiroki didn't like that one bit. The only one Nowaki should be fawning over is him, even if he did not like to admit it aloud. If Takahashi Misaki thinks he can steal his Nowaki, his happiness and hope, just like he - and his brother before him - stole Akihiko, he's got another thing coming for him.

* * *

Misaki woke up when it was nearing noon, feeling just as tired as he had before falling asleep. He yawned widely and stretched, wincing as the muscles in his left foot moved. It wasn't bandaged, and Misaki assumed Kusama-san decided against bandaging him at night.

The house was quiet. Usagi-san was almost always home, and Misaki found the silence quite unnerving. Although, he reasoned with himself, Kusama-san and Kamijou-sensei were _normal_ people, unlike a certain chain-smoking author. Well, as normal as Kamijou-the-Devil can be…

Misaki sat up in his bed slowly, groaning as the dull headache he felt ever since he went out with his friends reminded him he was still sick. He felt his forehead, but he could not decide whether he was still feverish or not. He spotted a thermometer on the drawer next to the bed and took it, lying back down as he waited for the mercury spread.

He waited for a few minutes, took the thermometer out of his mouth and frowned. 38.0C. Not too high, but not too low either. He sat up slowly again and threw his legs over the bed, rising slowly and supporting his weight with his right foot. He stepped on the wooden floor with his left foot for a few times, examining it, feeling relieved as he found he can now step on it somewhat easier.

He started limping towards the door when the ringing of his cell-phone made him go back to the drawer and retrieve it. He blushed slightly as he spotted the caller ID, coughed into his hand and to clear his voice, and then answered. "Hello?"

"Ah, Misaki," Usagi-san's deep voice greeted him, and Misaki smiled in spite of himself. "I tried calling home since morning, but no one picked up. Where are you?"

_I don't know_, he wanted to say. _I'm sick with a weird cold that won't go away and I'm in the same apartment as the wretched literature teacher and who I hope is merely his roommate and I want to go home already but they won't let me_, he wanted to explain, but instead he laughed slowly and told Usagi-san that he was out doing some necessary shopping, mentally slapping himself at his continuous lying.

"I see," Usagi-san said. "Are you still hoarse from that karaoke?"

Misaki cringed inwardly. No, he wasn't hoarse because of that, obviously. "W-well, you know how it's… chilly lately and… my throat is giving me some troubles because of the change of seasons-"

"Are you sick?" Usagi-san cut him off mid-sentence. "I'm coming back now-"

"No, Usagi-san!" Misaki yelled. "You should continue with the trip, it's important, isn't it? I'm fine, really. I'll take some medicine and rest well, then I should be fine in a day or two." _No._

"No. I'm coming back," Usagi-san declared, and Misaki could hear a very distressed Aikawa-san in the background.

"Usagi-san!" Misaki reprimanded. "I can take care of myself. It's nothing really, I have no fever-" _why are you lying_ "-and if it won't go away in a few days I'll just go to Nii-chan's."

"But no one's there to take care of you now!" Usagi-san argued back.

Misaki sighed inwardly. Actually, he was being taken care of quite alright. By too many people, too. "I'm fine," _I'm not_, "Please, don't worry." _Please come back…_

Usagi-san was quiet for a few seconds before replying. "Call Takahiro right now and tell him you're not feeling well. I'll call him later to make sure you did that." He said.

Misaki frowned. "Usagi-san! I'm not a little kid anymore, and Nii-chan has his own family to take care of-"

"You're his family too!" Usagi-san cried and Misaki's eyes widened. "I have to go now," _no_ "-but I'll call you again in the evening."

"Usagi-san, I-"

"Alright? Give your brother a call. I'll talk to you later."

And then the line was cut. Misaki stared at his cell-phone, feeling tears prickling his eyes. So much care and worry and… no, he wouldn't cry just because of that. He was a big boy. He could take care of himself quite alright, even if he's sick. That's what he always did. That was the only way he knew. His brother was always busy, taking care of him and working. Misaki couldn't worry him any further than that. Whenever he was sick he tried to hide it so his brother won't see. Sometimes he succeeded, other times he failed miserably. But the memory, the knowledge that his illness at the age of eight gave them so much misfortune was enough to silence his pain and make him ignore his fevers.

_You're his family too!_ Usagi-san's words kept repeating themselves in his head and he sniffled, holding his tears back. He took a deep, shuddered breath, trying to regain his composure.

_But you're not…_

As he exhaled slowly, shivering, a tender "good morning" was heard from the door. Misaki looked up, surprised, and was relieved to see Kusama-san in the doorway, looking somewhat hesitant.

"Uh… good morning," Misaki said, in lack of better words, hoping his eyes showed no trace of tears. "I-I thought no one was home…"

_You're not even here…_

"I was on the veranda taking care of the laundry. How are you feeling? You look a bit flushed… is your fever up again?" Kusama-san asked as he entered and immediately touched Misaki's forehead, frowning.

"I checked it just now," Misaki said, yet in his fatigue leaned into the touch. "It's around 38. I've never had such a weird cold before…"

Kusama-san blinked at him. "You think it's a cold?" he asked, seeming bemused. Misaki was about to answer, but then Kusama-san cut him off by telling him he'll make something light for him to eat and went to the kitchen.

Misaki followed, limping, and sat down at the table, looking at Kusama-san as he rummaged through drawers in his search for the necessary ingredients.

"I see your foot is better," Kusama-san said then, smiling at him. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, I can pretty much limp on it now," Misaki said, finding the smile contagious. "Do you need any help with the cooking?" he asked.

Kusama-san shook his head. "No, it's quite alright. The sick should stay put." Misaki just watched, following the movements of the knife with his eyes as Kusama-san cut vegetables. "So what makes you think it's a cold?" He asked suddenly, looking up at him with smiling eyes.

Misaki blushed. "Well… I've had a fever since I was caught in the rain… and my head hurts, and my throat feels a bit weird, too… "

"A cold won't give you a fever for more than a day or two," Kusama-san said, returning his gaze to the meal in preparation. "I'd say it's the flu, but… the symptoms aren't… It could be something else."

Misaki blinked at him in wonder. "Something else?" He asked. "Like what?"

"I'm thinking maybe Infectious mononucleosis," Kusama-san answered, filling a small bowl with the cut vegetables, then tending to the pot on the stove before it boiled and spoiled the dish. "More commonly known as the kissing disease."

Misaki paled. Obviously, it was all Usagi-san's fault! Always kissing him and doing those improper things to him, hugging him and… and… there were those tears again and Misaki looked down, clenching his fists and clutching the pajama pants he was made to borrow.

_Even though I need you. _

Kusama-san probably noticed his reaction but misunderstood it, for then he laughed lightly and said "no, no, you can get it even without kissing." Kusama-san added some tofu to the pot on the stove, and then continued. "That's just my assumption, obviously. Some symptoms still aren't falling into place, so I'm not sure. Let's give this thing a couple of more days, and if you're still sick I'll take you to the hospital I work at to get examined. How does that sound?"

Misaki nodded and Kusama-san smiled at him widely, flashing him a row of pearl-white teeth. Misaki assumed that the blush which he felt spreading was due to the rising fever, but stopped pondering this once a bowl of Miso soup and a small plate with salad were served to him.

"Th-thanks for the food," he said. "But I'm not feeling hungry right now…"

Kusama-san shook his head slowly. "Oh, I insist. You have to eat _something_. At least the soup. It'll make you stronger."

Misaki sighed heavily, resigning, and begun eating the soup slowly. Kusama-san flashed him another one of those smiles, and then rose to his feet. "I have to go out to buy some ingredients for dinner, alright? I'll be back shortly," Kusama-san said, then grabbed his wallet from the table and a light coat, smiling at him kindly one last time, and closed the door behind him.

Misaki reasoned with himself then that his heart was beating this fast because the soup was too spicy.

_To Be Continued…_


End file.
